


A Blossom Grown For You

by avianscribe



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Familial Hanahaki, Gen, Hanahaki Disease, Zine: Full Bloom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:13:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21906274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avianscribe/pseuds/avianscribe
Summary: Young Ignis notices that Noctis is feeling poorly -- and King Regis's frequent absences only seem to make it worse.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia, Noctis Lucis Caelum & Regis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 22
Kudos: 141
Collections: Full Bloom Zine (Final Fantasy XV)





	A Blossom Grown For You

**Author's Note:**

> This is the work I wrote for Full Bloom Zine! It was a fun zine to work on, and the end result was beautiful and _so full of flowers...!_ Of _course_ my contribution was hanahaki. I couldn't help it. 
> 
> I wrote this months and months ago, and I'm excited to be able to share it at last!

Since the Marilith Incident, Ignis has begun to hate being in Noctis’s room.

Just after the attack, it served as a sick room while Noctis slept. Now it is filled with flowers from well-wishers all over Insomnia, welcoming him back from Tenebrae─each bloom a reminder of loss. Noctis barely spares them a glance.

He barely acknowledges Ignis, either. Ignis isn’t offended, but he can’t help but fret. Today, he rolls Noct's wheelchair to the window, thinking that the view might cheer him. Noct doesn’t say no (he doesn’t say anything).

Ignis is still adjusting to this new, subdued Noctis. He tries valiantly to hide how much Noctis's reticence distresses him. They sit in silence until muffled voices outside the room draw near.

"...seems to be responding well, Majesty," says one approaching voice: Doctor Floresco. "We can't be sure how much his injury has impacted his ability to access the Crystal's magic until later."

"Of course."

That is King Regis. Noctis straightens at the sound of his father's voice.

“He’s responding well to treatment,” the doctor continues, “but he still has a long way to go.” 

“Naturally. Please watch over him. This trip to the borderlands is important. I’ll keep in touch while I’m away.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

The door opens. The King enters, with Doctor Floresco behind him. Noctis twists just enough in his chair to wince. Ignis turns the wheelchair to face the door.

“Dad!” Noctis says.

“Noctis,” the King replies, and kneels in front of him. He puts a hand on Noct’s knee. “How are you feeling today?”

“Okay, I guess,” Noctis replies. 

“Are the doctors and Ignis taking care of you?” 

“Yeah…” 

“Good. Look, son… I have to take a trip. I’ll be away for some time.”

Noctis’s face falls. “Okay,” he says.

“I will return as soon as possible ─ and then we’ll have lunch together. A picnic in the gardens. How does that sound?” 

Noctis smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Listen to the doctors, and follow their instructions so you can get better.”

“I will, Dad,” Noctis says softly.

* * *

King Regis is away for days and days. Ignis keeps Noctis company, but it’s tough. Noctis is sad, withdrawn. He doesn’t want to see the stars or read the Cosmogony with Ignis and only grudgingly agrees to let Ignis roll him through the gardens. 

Ignis dreads taking Noctis to his physical therapy appointments ─ the ones where he cries in pain and lays unmoving for hours afterwards. They’re important, but they require navigating the Citadel halls, where people watch them pass and hide their surreptitious murmurs about the “crippled prince” behind their hands. The worst speculate about his broken magic and question whether he is fit enough to be prince at all. Their neighbors quickly hush them and maybe they think Noctis can’t hear… but on those days, Noctis cries the most.

Ignis doesn’t think a Prince's Hand is supposed to hate. It’s hard not to.

One afternoon, when Regis has been gone for five days already, Ignis wheels the prince to the portrait gallery. They walk through rows and rows of paintings of Noct’s ancestors. Tall vases of fresh-cut flowers stand between each one.

“Ignis…” Noctis says, after they pass the portrait of King Mors and pause by a vase of gaudy hydrangeas. 

Ignis walks around to face his prince. “Yes, Noct?” he says.

“What if…” Noctis starts, then hesitates. “What if I never… what if I can’t use the Crystal now? What if I was hurt too bad?”

“Noct, I don’t think--” 

“That’s why Dad goes away all the time, isn’t it?” 

Ignis shakes his head. “No…!”

“What if I can’t be Prince?” 

“You  _ are _ the Prince, Noct. No one else is.”

“Do you think…” Noctis stammers. “Do you think I’ll be a good king?”

“You’ll be the best,” Ignis says. 

Noct’s face looks doubtful. He coughs into his hand.

* * *

On the day King Regis returns, he comes directly to see Noctis. Ignis hears him outside talking with the doctor before he enters ─ quiet murmurs about Noct’s progress and health. His heart lifts; maybe now Noctis will pull out of his sullen malaise.

Noctis tenses when the door opens, and Ignis turns his chair to face the door. 

“Dad!” Noctis says.

“Noctis, son,” King Regis says, and his voice is strained. His eyes look more creased, his face more drawn.

“Dad, I’m so glad you’re back,” Noctis says. “Can we have our picnic today?” 

King Regis smiles.

They make their preparations. Ignis delivers the orders to the kitchen and takes a checkered blanket up to the gardens, his heart light. Noctis has been looking forward to this, even if he hasn’t said anything. Ignis will do all in his power to make it right. He sets out the blanket just so, and the kitchen staff arrives to lay everything out.

Ignis retrieves Noctis from his rooms and finds him bright and eager. He isn’t exactly talkative, but still his chatter fills the air as they walk. He asks after Ignis’s uncle, wonders aloud what will be served for lunch, and quietly hopes his dad will get there soon.

They are ten minutes early. Ignis helps Noctis lift himself out of his chair, anchoring him every step down to the blanket. Noctis sits and grows quiet. Ignis is pretty sure it’s nerves because when King Regis arrives five minutes later, Noctis relaxes. 

It doesn’t last.

The King has just settled himself across from Noctis, and the staff are preparing to set out the food when Clarus Amicitia approaches. He leans forward and whispers in the King’s ear. Ignis and Noctis share a look while the Shield and King whisper together ─ and then the King’s face tenses and sags with disappointment.

“I’m so sorry, Noctis,” he says. “Something has come up that I must see to. Please, son, forgive me. We’ll have to postpone our lunch together, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it now.” Then he stands and Clarus escorts him from the garden. 

When they are gone, Noctis quietly asks Ignis to take him back to his rooms. He doesn’t want to eat. His demeanor changes; blank, slumped in his chair, silent. He coughs along the way. Ignis wonders if he should speak to someone ─ maybe Noctis is developing allergies; they should be addressed. Ignis regrets leaving a full picnic behind, but frets more about Noctis’s health.

* * *

Perhaps because Ignis is paying more attention now, he realizes how  _ much _ Noctis is coughing. It seems to worsen whenever his father leaves him ─ which is often. The King takes several more journeys to distant regions of Lucis over the next month, and every time he leaves, the coughs become deeper. Ignis hates seeing Noctis’s slight frame shake after a fit. However, he doesn’t run a fever and shows no other symptoms.

A couple of weeks after the aborted picnic, Ignis arrives at Noctis’s rooms just as his father is leaving. King Regis has just closed the door with a heavy sigh and starts to turn when Ignis calls, “Majesty?”

King Regis turns to him with a start. “Ah, Ignis. The counsel has called a meeting, and I must attend. Will you see that Noctis gets dinner? I will try to return before he goes to bed tonight.”

“Yes, sire,” Ignis says, and bows. The King walks away, and Ignis opens the door to Noct’s rooms.

Noctis stands in the center of the room, coughing ─ no, gagging. Ignis rushes to his side, slaps his back. Noctis takes a gasping breath and with another cough, a shower of yellow flower petals ─ daffodils or jonquils, Ignis can’t tell ─ rain from his mouth. Stunned, Ignis watches them flutter to the ground. 

“I… Ignis?” Noctis says, his voice quiet. Ignis meets his wide, terrified eyes, just before Noctis slumps to the floor.

Ignis panics.

He clutches Noctis close and yells until an orderly enters the room. When they see the flowers, they freeze. They call for medical help and the king is summoned back to the room. Regis himself lifts Noctis from Ignis’s arms at last and rushes him to the Citadel clinic. 

Ignis follows in a tearful daze. He’s not sure how he manages to escape notice in the room while the doctor makes her assessment. He waits in the corner, remembering a tale ─ a bedtime story, really ─ about a girl whose love spurned her and she wasted and died with flowers growing from her mouth. He remembers the illustration in the book he read to Noctis months and months ago: the girl, laying in a field of flowers, with a fine rose ─ thorns and all ─ blooming from her lips.

He’d always thought it was just a story.

Ignis wants to stand and pace, but if he’s noticed he might be sent away, so he remains still.

There are x-rays and tests and lots of waiting. Through it all, Noctis drifts in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he sees and recognizes where he is; sometimes he murmurs in his sleep.

At last the doctor returns, x-rays in hand. 

“Hanahaki disease,” she says. 

King Regis looks puzzled, then incensed. "Why would my son have the _ lover's disease? _ He’s  _ eight." _

The doctor’s eyes are kind and hard at the same time. "Hanahaki does not just afflict lovers, Majesty ─ there are as many variations of the disease as there are kinds of love. Do you really believe that romantic love is the only kind that can be unrequited?"

"But I love my son!"

"No one doubts you do, Majesty ─ except maybe Noctis."

Regis stares at her in offended confusion. “What are you implying?”

“That it doesn’t matter whether or not you actually  _ love _ someone if they don’t believe it.”

Ignis doesn’t have words to describe the emotions that flow across King Regis’s face in fast succession. The King goes very still. His skin turns as pale as gardenias in bloom, and he makes a strangled noise. 

In a rush, King Regis wraps his arms around Noctis. Now Ignis can’t see his face, buried in Noct’s hair… but he can hear the noise he makes, the choking sob, and Ignis wishes that he wasn’t here to witness the King’s sorrow. Noctis mumbles in his sleep ─ turns into the embrace ─ and Ignis looks away, tears in his own eyes. 

“Never again, Noctis…” he hears King Regis whisper. “I will prove my love to you.”

* * *

The hours and days that follow are a blur. Ignis sees everything that happens while he’s with Noctis, and he is with Noctis a lot. King Regis’s schedule opens, and every day for two weeks the King stays by his son’s side, unmoving. Every time Noctis wakes, he sees his father’s face. 

Some days afterward, Ignis and Noctis are alone. Noctis’s breathing is labored, hana still clogging his lungs ─ but he is improving. He can sit in his chair again, and they’re discussing another picnic. 

“Dad said he could come today,” Noctis says. “Do you think… do you think he’ll make it?”

“He wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Ignis says.

And he doesn’t.

King Regis arrives in the garden with a bright smile and a wrapped gift ─ a book, which Noctis opens eagerly: an advance copy of the latest in the Silus Lumina “Mysteries of the Astrals” series. Noctis launches into a diatribe about the last book’s ending and how much he’s looking forward to the resolution when an orderly enters and Noctis’s voice peters out. He eyes the orderly anxiously. 

“Majesty,” the orderly says, “A delegation from Galahd has arrived and wishes to see you.” 

Noctis glances between the orderly and his father, eyes wide and face anxious. Ignis holds his breath.

King Regis barely spares a glance for the orderly before looking back at his son. "Please send them my regrets…" and he gives Noctis a warm smile, his eyes sparkling. "I'm afraid I have a prior commitment that I cannot cancel."

In the garden, framed by the blooming roses, Noctis smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> According to the list of flower meanings that I found, jonquils represent a desire for affection returned.


End file.
